And The Party Died
by Flaming Trails
Summary: Another Room 101 story. O'Brien witnesses the death of the Party.


And The Party Died

By Flaming Trails

Disclaimer: I don't own 1984, O'Brien, or Room 101. I do, however, make the claim to own Joseph.

  


O'Brien watched as the man was forcefully dragged into the room. The prisoner of the Ministry of Love looked like all the others had -- bruised, cut, beaten almost beyond recognition. Yet he still glared defiantly at his captors, and struggled against his bonds. Yes, Joseph Taylor would be a tough one to break.

Joseph shook off the guards once they entered the room. The guards left silently, not caring to see what was coming next. O'Brien sighed as he looked in through the one-way window they had built in the room. _Such a brilliant young man. Incurably insane and perverse, but brilliant. I haven't enjoyed talking to someone like him in a long time. Bit of a shame that he has to become an unperson. But he refuses to accept the ultimate dominion of the Party. He says that two plus two equals four, even when the Party says they equal five. What utter nonsense. The Party is always right. Big Brother is always right._

He pressed the button that allowed him to communicate with the prisoners. "Hello Joseph. Welcome to Room 101."

Joseph started briefly at the voice, then stood firmly in the center of the room, face set in a mask of anger. He didn't reply, like most did, to plead his case or try to trick his jailers into thinking he was reformed. O'Brien found it slightly refreshing. _This will be interesting. To see him face his final fear. To see him accept the absolute rule of the Party. To see him denounce that unperson he was so determined to stay with._

A look of distaste creased the Inner Party member's face. There had been people from all walks of life brought into Room 101. Poor people, rich people, idiots, geniuses, genuine rebels and loyal Party members. But all of them had shared a Party-acceptable bond that this one lacked.

All of them had preferred women to men.

Not that the Party encouraged such counterproductive feelings such as love. All love should be directed only to Big Brother, where it wouldn't get in the way of efficiency. But the Party hated all that was different, and men loving other men was something different. It could not be allowed.

And that was the crime Joseph had committed. Falling in love with another man.

O'Brien pressed the speaker button again. "This is your last chance, Joseph. Do you love Big Brother?"

Joseph spat the words out. "I hate Big Brother."

O'Brien nodded. It always took more than that to break them. He nodded to his assistant. The grim-faced young woman nodded back and flipped the switch to her left.

The room came alive with loud crackles and pops. The walls glowed brightly as sparks flew off them. Joseph's eyes went wide with fear. O'Brien could tell exactly what he was thinking: _How did they know my greatest fear?_

"The Party knows all, Joseph. The Party is absolute." Joseph gave him a look of terrified fury. "The walls have 8,000 volts of electricity coursing through them. Everything, even the door, is electrified. You are surrounded by electricity."

Joseph whimpered. He hated electricity above all else. His father had been an electrician and had died in an electrical accident. Ever since then he had distrusted electricity. He had lived with the proles than even face modern technology with its electricity. But now, here it was, trapping him, terrifying him.

O'Brien watched him as he trembled, standing as far away from the current as possible. Maybe Joseph wouldn't be as tough as he had supposed. _The tougher they come, the harder they fall. We will make him well again, through all means. As we make everyone well._

It remained like that for many hours. Joseph cringed in the middle of the room, shivering whenever he looked up at the current dancing along the walls. O'Brien left for lunch and dinner, only to come back to find Joseph hadn't moved. Frankly, it was getting quite boring for the Inner Party member. Most people put up some sort of show while their minds were being purged and made right.

He pressed the button again. "What is it like, Joseph?" He had to get some entertainment out of this _somehow_. "To know you are trapped by your greatest fear? To know that, no matter where you turn, you cannot get free?"

Joseph didn't reply. He just shook again. "You know what you must do. Purge your mind of that thoughtcrime. Accept the rule of the Party."

This time Joseph looked up. He glanced at the walls, as if searching for his tormentor's voice. Then he said, in a quiet voice, "Betray Emmett."

O'Brien nodded, although he knew Joseph couldn't see him. "Yes. Betray the illusion that made you commit thoughtcrime. For that's all Emmett ever was. An illusion. He never existed. He was a fancy made up by you to explain your descent into madness." He made his voice soothing. "Come back to the Party, Joseph. Forget the illusion."

Joseph looked around again. Then his eyes grew cold. He stood, slowly and deliberately. "I hate Big Brother. I will never betray Emmett."

O'Brien sighed. It wasn't going to be easy. What was this strange emotion, love? All love should be to Big Brother and Big Brother al-

His heart stopped.

Joseph had, very calmly, walked to the left wall. The current raced along it, up and down, right to left. 8,000 volts -- enough to kill a man if he was in contact with it for long enough. Joseph lifted his hand. Then he placed it against the wall.

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!" O'Brien shrieked, but it was too late. Joseph's body, now completely burnt, gave a few final jerks and fell to the floor. The woman flipped the switch back and goggled as the guards rushed in to get the body.

O'Brien crumpled to the floor. This couldn't have happened! It must not have happened! Yet it had happened. Joseph had committed suicide. He had overcome his greatest fear, willing to die in the same way his father had.

He had died unrepentant.

O'Brien stared at the floor unblinkingly. His world had shattered. The Party had failed for the first time. They had made a martyr. No matter how completely they would erase him from the world, he would eternally be a martyr. The absolute rule was no longer absolute.

He no longer heard the noises around him, the shock of the Party members, the race of footsteps down the hall to get rid of the body and the person who had owned it. O'Brien lay on the floor and wept. 

He wept and watched the Party die.

The End


End file.
